Search Posts

We were all walking through the winding streets of some dream-blended European city. I was trying to remember the way back to a hostel or train station, following my nose and testing my memory. Looking at shops and street signs for clues.

I led the five of us down into a subway entrance that turned left under the streets and sloped downhill slightly. Shops lined each side – those shallow, glass fronted shops selling cakes or souvenirs. We were walking along this subway and we passed a bar that opened onto the passing stream of people. There were bar stools sitting under a long high shelf against which lent a few old men, their backs turned to us.

One of them suddenly started signing Edelweiss in soft, deep rich tones. Quietly another joined in, then another and soon there was a close crowd of old European men all signing together. Slow, wistful – almost funereal – but haunting and beautiful.

I stopped our little family and we stepped out of the passing stream of people to listen. We stood (as we used to often do) and just soaked it all up.

In this dream I turned to our little family and said “Just soak it up! This will be over soon. Before we know it we will be back in Australia and this will seem like it never happened. All of this wonder and magic will seem like it was a dream!”

So we stood and let a the sounds of Edelweiss sung by a group of old European men sweep over us.

And then I woke up.

I don’t quite know what I felt. A dash of sadness, with nostalgia and longing mixed in. That bitter sweetness of remembering the joy of something so incredible while you have already moved into the next phase and there is no possible way to ever return.

Its not like a favourite camping spot or East Coast beach that you can return to at whim and you know that one summer will generally feel like another summer. It’s not like your favourite restaurant or alley in Melbourne which you just decide to see and then you go and see.

It will never come back. We can go again, walk streets, travel as a little gang of five again – but it will be a new journey, never what we just had.

Yes – I know – that is reality. You can never return and a returning is never the same anyway so I have given up trying to recreate these things. I have learnt to let it just glow in my memory and be what it is. But I would be lying if I said it was always easy to do – that letting go of the journey.

I have lost count of how many people have asked: “So – how is it back in the real world?”

I usually give some standard response about readjustment – but lately I have just replied “Who says this is the real world?”

Who says that this routine is the real one. The regularity and predictability. The transaction of commerce. The responsibilities of mortgages. The week in and week out that, if I am completely and brutally honest, often blend so smoothly into one and I cant actually recall the difference between 3 weeks ago and 5 weeks ago. What did I do 6 weekends ago? Just give me a minute to check my iPhone calendar.

My “real” life now measured by little electronic icons of tasks and events. Where merely months ago we measured the passing of time by countries, stamps in passports, mountains we had climbed or which cobblestoned streets in an ancient town we had walked down.

I totally agree. We have been talking about oir re-entry. We’ve been home for 8 months now and I am still struggling to come to terms with the new reality. At I times I revel in the predictable nature of our sports/school/study/work/house routines. I have always liked structure. At other times the expectations of these routines send me crazy, why do we need another dress up day? Why do I have to print off another newsletter, RSVP to another event, can’t I make my mind up closer to the day? Last week we took the kids & a friend up to Docklands for a night on the boat to see the fireworks. It was the first night we had slept aboard since we returned. The only way we can get the kids on board now is with friends and/or bribes. Did we do the right thing? He’ll, yeah! Good luck with your re-entry! Keep the blogs coming & enjoy Offspring! Lx

How great to see those words ‘ Two Roads ” in my inbox again, Matt . You and Mel gave me so much pleasure while you and your family were discovering the world. Noone can take all of that from you, so keep on dreaming and also enjoy The Now.
Tricia

Thank you for sharing your existential angst. It may not acute, as in someone with a mental health diagnosis, but it is a really worthwhile experience to share. Yes, life is like this, if you let yourself ponder. I do not agree that we should buck up and get on with life. The uncomfortable thoughts and feelings like this, which are fraught and make us question “Am I doing the right thing for myself and my family?” are important. If we numb out the discomfort which makes us take stock, we might just miss out on being truly human. Maybe you are in touch with your cave man, scanning the horizon, rather than putting your head down and bum up. That head down ethos has consequences, which are not always good.

Hi Matt,
Arriving back home after 4 weeks in Denmark with our camping car, I stumbled over your “dreams”. And immediately I felt close to you and your family again, although we only had few words on the campsite in Venice – was it weeks ago, months age, years ago … ?
For my wife and me 4 weeks on the road – in familiar European surroundings – seem like an adventure. And then I think of you being away from home for one and a half year – and envy and admiration mix in my head.
The description of your dream and your thoughts about it are deeply moving. It shows that your big journey is firmly rooted in your subconscious – and I’m sure it will stay there for the rest of your life. And your girls also will never forget it and be grateful to you for this precious present. Your question: “What is real life?” is essential and everyone has to find the answer on his own. I guess, you have found it! I wish you and your dear ones all the best – I will always remember you.
Sincerely – yours Heinz from Austria.
P.S.: I’m still hoping that your book will be published sooner or later – and I would immensely enjoy to be among the first readers.